


Winter Blue

by Astrumiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Winter Soldier!Cas Captain America!Dean CAWS/SPN AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:23:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2855717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrumiel/pseuds/Astrumiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the fall of Hydra, the asset, known as "The Winter Soldier" finds himself  running from his former masters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sasstrick (on Tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sasstrick+%28on+Tumblr%29).



It still reverberated through him like it was happening. Never before has a mission gone so wrong, never before had he do something so wrong that it had left him torn apart and feeling, painfully feeling like he hadn’t ever felt pain before and now years of everything that had been held back came crashing down in a single moment, then again and yet again. The Trisekelion had fallen to chaos as Hydra had made itself know, then scattered into a million secret places around the world. He watched it all indifferently as it crumbled, only vaguely aware that his handler would be displeased.   
It always felt empty when he worked, even the fights, the escapes and the kills. It was all empty the pain was there whenever he faltered and wounds needed their time to heal but he never felt.   
Until the bridge, until the man that had been his mission called him by a different name and dropped his weapon as no one else had. That was the first emotion in all the years he could remember living existing. An inkling of confusion that had opened up the damn that Hydra’s demons had worked so diligently to close off and destroy. Days following the fall he hid among the poor of the city, never staying among them for more than a few hours to make sure none could be harmed in Hydra’s search for him. He spent days wondering around the old buildings both avoiding the memories the man on the bridge had triggered and trying to unlock more. More of who he was. 

 

He didn't keep track of time, on occasion he saw a newspaper, or passed by a café where news snippets echoed between songs that floated past him making no impression.   
He found himself walking through the halls of a grand museum, the Smithsonian after days of circling unconsciously around it. It was crowded, more so than usual. The people streaming in to the exhibit were constantly bumping into him, jarring his nerves, but he pressed on. Through the loud speakers the man spoke in a patriotic tone of the man who saved the nation yet again. He forced himself to stop in an empty corner and listen, the information was new and old to him, some fed to him by Hydra other brand new, sharply contrasting what he had been told. It swirled around in his mind in a painful confusion. For a moment it threatened to overwhelm him as clashing memories and Hydra conditioning it’s maddening chaos, it’s a toxic storm of everything he’s been trying to hold back trying to cave in on him all at once. It rushes and crushes the barriers he’s set up so carefully when through the static storm and haze a voice, his voice breaks through.  
“I’d rather have you, cursed or not.”  
It echoes in a soothing way, a cave lapping the shore, calm, collected, constant.   
“I’d rather have you, cursed or not.”  
He draws a deep ragged breath an lets the railing he’s grabbed with his warped weapon of an arm away leaving it twisted as his head felt only moments prior.   
He continues walking past the unsuspecting tourist and exhibit personnel until he sees it out of the corner of his eye. It’s like a fun-house mirror at Coney Island and he wonders how he knows about it. He’s staring at a face, his face but it looks different. The hair is shorter, styles and a bit in disarray, he’s I a different uniform judging by the collar in the image, it’s the eyes in the picture that haunt him. They’re the tired eyes of a soldier; they stare off and hold a sentiment of a cocky air-of-confidence that seems out of place. He stares at the image as the people pass by, trying to commit that face to memory. “My face” he thinks as he stares at it trying desperately to trigger what Hydra locked away. It’s almost by accident that his eyes slip to the name beneath the image.

“Castiel “Cas” Novak” 

“Cas!” now the voice in his head is screaming his name as he falls off the train, as he’s fighting some faceless punk in an alley, as he’s running from Hydra soldiers in the forests of Europe. He hears it again as his mask fall off on the bridge, and yet one time more are he raises his arm to finish his mission on the last of the Project Insight Hellicarriers. He’s always there calling his name.  
“Dean” he breathes out and his eyes sting as he turns and marches rigidly out of the exhibit.   
\--------------------------------------------------------------  
Running from Hydra turns underground survival the likes of which he hasn't experienced in years, not since the first missions in Russia. He manages melding seamlessly with the homeless and impoverished of the city, staying in their shelters of in vacant homes. They leave him alone for the most part, with the exception of an incident where a few younger, cockier punks tried to take his coat as a souvenir with had him pinning them by their necks against the walls of the decrepit shack with his weapon of an arm before dropping them down and leaving them to scramble away. He’s panicked thinking Hydra agents had found him and nearly ripped the throat of the younger one out before he caught himself.

Days continued to pass and something besides fear started to grow in his chest, an unnameable feeling that grew each day and began to displace the fear as he learned what had happened to Hydra. Each day he knew the scattered heads sought to find their asset but each day he found himself thinking that maybe the impossibility of his total escape could become a reality.   
He saw the months pass him by, a woman at one of the shelter’s he visited had told him cheerfully that it would be Christmas time soon. Christmas. He saw the people all around him seemed in a rush as the weather chilled him, he shuttered and picked up a heavier coat from a shelter, resenting the weather. The cold always brought back painful flashbacks.   
Again he found himself wandering with a pull growing in him taking him down through Brooklyn to an old neighborhood that seemed vaguely familiar. For days he wandered those streets searching for something and knowing not what. It was a particularly cold and windy night when he found it.  
The now was coming down steadily, driven by a wind from the east. He finds himself in the staircase of a building he’s been staring at from a distance from some time. He’s closer but the pull doesn’t let go, instead it grows stronger until his feet bring him to a halt in front of a door, painted a dull green and worn with use. He hears a faint knock and realizes it’s his own hand, the flesh and blood hand rapping carefully against the old wood. In a moment of panic he freezes and before he can turn away the door opens and greeting him are warm, green astonished eyes framed by long lashes and a shocked freckled face

“Cas.”

He feels the man, no, he feels Dean put a tentative hand on his arm and rest there, just testing the waters, just to make sure he’s real. A simple gesture but he feels himself real if only just a little. That’s apparently what Dean’s been waiting for as he pulls him into a crushing hug that seems to shake loose the pull that had both tugged him here and weighed him down for that past months. He feels Dean rest his head in the crook of his neck and take a shuddering breath. It occurs to him. A rather strange though that he hasn’t been able to clean himself in a while but Dean doesn’t seem to care as he holds him tightly in the doorway.

“Cas” he says again and his voice, his wonderful voice sounds so sad like its breaking.

“Hello Dean.” He mutters and his voice sounds hoarse, he realizes he hasn’t used it in days. Something within him finally breaks and he finds his own arms returning the embrace in a vice like grip. 

“Heya Cas.” Dean answers quietly.   
It’s not how expected the day to go but all things considered it’s good. For the first time its good.

When Dean finally loosens his grip Castiel reluctantly dose the same, a little shiver running down him as the comfort and warmth from Dean’s hug leaves. 

“Can you stay?” Dean asks looking unsure.

“I- yes, for now at least.” Cas answers and the way it his words bring light and joy back to Dean’s eyes makes it all worth it. 

“Come on then, looks like neither one of us is spending Christmas eve alone!” Dean says pulling him into the apartment. He goes quietly marveling at the way his name, his name sounds coming from Dean’s lips. It almost brings a smile to his face as he thinks back to the woman at the shelter who had treated him so kindly. He thinks she’d be pleased to see him spending Christmas Eve like this.   
It’s warm in here, safer than any place he’s been in the past few months and it smells like pine and a warm cooked meal.

“Hey Cas?” Dean comes in from another room holding a big towel and some spare clothes. “I-ah thought you might want to take a shower, or something you look like you’ve been living on the streets for a while.”

“I have actually- thank you.” Cas tells him and his hands shake slightly as he accepts the bundles and let’s Dean lead him into a smaller room, not seeing the heart-broken look on his face as was Cas said really hits him, and busies himself starting the water before he steps out of his way. 

“I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.” Dean says and he puts a hand on Castiel’s shoulder as he leaves. The door clicks shut behind him. 

“Thank you Dean.” Cas says to the empty air around him and then busies himself with the new task of cleaning himself.   
The water is warm as it hits him washing the cold of the days he spent outside away in a steady stream as it falls on him. It’s a luxury he’s had little chance to indulge in before something triggers an attack. He’s been good about keeping himself in check recently. Keeping himself isolated from triggers and people he could hurt. Now in the swirling mist and falling heat of the water he feels it a slip to a violent memory. Suddenly there’s heat smothering him as he’s being strapped down to a table, “sedate him, sedate him.” He hears and it goes on as he lashes against the demons taking over his vision and all his other sense. The scent of sulfur takes over and black eye doctors surround him. He’s trying to scream or maybe he’s screaming but there’s not help he’s lost and drowning, drowning in it all. 

“CAS!” it breaks through again, Dean’s voice breaks through and now he realizes that he’s knocked the door in and broken the lock in the process. 

“Cas, it’s ok, it’s ok.” Strong hands help him up and out of the water and start drying him off, in slow soothing circles as Dean continues to whisper.

“I’m here Cas, you’re ok.” 

Castiel looks at him and lets his face bring the world back into focus. “Dean you’re soaked.” He says wonderingly as his reality stops spinning.   
“Huh? Oh yeah I guess I forgot to shut the water off before I got you out.” Dean answers not taking his eyes off him.

“I guess that makes us even for the time I pulled you out of the lake.” Cas tells him attempting to make a joke.

“You pulled me out?” Dean asked. “The day we fought on the Hellicarriers, you pulled me out?” 

“I had to, with the wounds you had, you would have gone into shock and drowned.” Castiel told him. 

“I never- thank you Cas.” Dean says and Cas feels Dean’s forehead drop against his own and realizes tears are blurring his vision. 

“Look at us a couple of saps crying in a bathroom, on Christmas Eve. Dean says and Cas feels a tear run down his cheek that could have been Dean’s or his own. The feeling that’s been growing unnamable in his chest expands and he finds himself wondering what running his fingers down Dean’s cheek and into his hair would feel like. Before he can act on the thought Dean pulls away and helps him up.

“C’mon let’s get you dressed. 

After the little incident Dean had led him, dressed and dried off into a small kitchen decorated in tiny lights and greenery. Castiel fought against his instinct to put a weapon on the table, this wasn't Hydra, Dean wasn't a minder who might need a way to dispose of him. Still the habit was hard to forget, it was Dean's pleasant chatter that cut through the dark thoughts.  
“Sammy actually took care of all of this.” Dean explained excitedly as he served them both dinner. “He’s working as an S.H.I.E.L.D. agent now, after they succeeded with me they tried to replicate the formula they used on me and guess who was the first to volunteer.” Dean asked proudly. “Of course it didn't work like before but the kid shot up and it cured him of every disease ever so they asked him to stay at S.H.I.E.L.D, apparently he went into cryo right after-“He breaks off.

“After?” Castiel inquired carefully. 

“After I crash landed the Redskull’s plane.” Dean answered with a resigned tone. “They brought him back out when they found me. They thought I’d need a familiar face once I woke up, and they weren't wrong.”  
Dean launched off on everything that’s happened since he woke up and Castiel found himself captivated by everything, even if some of it went over his head.

“- and Tran got me into all the classic rock of the 80’s I swear it’s the best and . . . Cas?” 

“Yes?” Castiel asked seemingly unaware of how close they had gotten. 

“It’s so good to have you back.” Dean said.   
It seemed like a perfect moment to lean in but Dean chose that moment to gather up their plates and walk away leavening Cas confused. He wished he could remember how to act around Dean like he’s sure he used to. There were memories there just under the surface, ones that would help him free himself from what Hydra had fed him as the truth. 

“Maybe we can talk in the living room Cas . . . if that’s ok with you.” Dean asked uncertainly, like he was still trying to make sure nothing triggered Castiel. 

“I’d like that.” Castiel told walking towards the living room where Dean was standing in the doorway.   
When he reached the living room it caught him by surprise. The entirety of it was sparsely decorated by the tree by the corner lit up the entire room and he could almost remember how it had been. He feels something ruffle his hair and move the hanging strands off his cheek and a warm press of lips brush the high arch of his cheek. He turns slowly to Dean and watches the way the lights from the tree illuminate the green of his eyes. 

“mistletoe” Dean breathes by way of explanation as he goes to walk away but Cas catches him by the wrist and pulls him back in.

“I don’t remember much, Hydra was very thorough with their methods but I remember you somehow.” Castiel whispered against his lips and pressed forward against Dean’s breath parted lips. It was a brief moment of joy, a spark in the deepest cold of winter that signaled the beginning of a thaw. He felt himself melt against Dean as deepened their next kiss, now the spark was a fire that consumed them both in the best of ways spreading down to the deepest and coldest parts warming them and melting the ice of the Winter Soldier.

“Cas when I lost you in the mountains, I kept thinking of everything I should have told you, everything Cas. All the times you looked after me and kept m and Sammy out of trouble. All the times you kept me alive when Mom and Dad died.” Dean whispered in a rush.

“Dean you know I don’t need thanks for that.” Castiel told him.It rang true, this man had saved him, Cas should be thanking him.

“There’s one more thing I never told you, the most important secret I’ve ever kept.” Dean whispered pulling him in impossibly closer.

“What’s that” Cas asked feeling his breath reach Dean’s lips.

“I’ve been in love with you for the longest time, years and years Cas. I was going to tell you but it never seemed like the right time and after I lost you it seemed like the world went black and white.” Dean confessed.

“So seeing me on the bridge must have been like being kicked in the stomach.” Cas said feeling bitter.

“No.” Dean corrected him. “It was like getting my color back.” He pulled him back in and put a gentle hand on his jaw, just cradling his face, like he was something precious, like he mattered. Like he deserved to be loved.

“Stay with me Cas, please I know it’s not going to be easy with everything that the world is throwing at us but if you’re willing I’ll be standing next to you forever. Cuz I’d rather have you, cursed or not.”


End file.
